Pay‑to‑Win King of Martial Arts (Novel) - Chapter 26 - Mandate of Heaven (3)

Chapter 26 – Mandate of Heaven (3)

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Translated by Heavenly Cat

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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“So, like I said, I crossed swords with that guy once. He couldn’t do a thing against me. So how’s he supposed to beat you? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Myeong-il did not even look at Myeong-han, who kept chattering beside him, and brought his sword down on the wooden dummy.

Myeong-il’s eyes narrowed slightly. No matter how hard he tried not to let it bother him, when someone kept talking beside him like that, his focus was bound to scatter. In fact, he had meant to strike the Jianyu Acupoint in the upper arm, but ended up hitting the Jugu Acupoint beside it instead.

“Hey.”

Myeong-il whipped his head around. Myeong-han, who had been talking animatedly, saw the look in Myeong-il’s eyes and swallowed his words.

“You’re getting in the way.”

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

“If you’re sorry, then leave.”

With an awkward look on his face, Myeong-han returned to his own spot. Even if each of them had a master, the basic training was done with all the third-generation disciples gathered together. Their masters all had separate duties to attend to. Drill instructors and masters were not the same.

“Ha.”

It was infuriating that his concentration had been broken by such idle chatter. Myeong-il was already regarded as the greatest prodigy in Wudang, one of the Nine Great Sects, but he had no intention of stopping there.

He had heard far too many stories of seniors who had first been called prodigies only to collapse later, enough to make his ears callused. Myeong-il would never become one of them.

Myeong-il looked toward the group where Martial Uncle Cheong-hwa’s disciples were. Among the third-generation disciples, that was the only place with a reputation high enough to be worth measuring himself against. Even young Myeong-gyeong still had good natural qualities.

‘…Was that fellow said to be Martial Uncle Cheong-hwa’s disciple?’

To Myeong-il, Cheong-hwa was one of the very few martial uncles he respected.

Myeong-il had pretended not to care either, but when he heard nothing but that story all day long nearby, there was no way he could ignore it.

Apparently some lay disciple was itching to fight him. To Myeong-il, that was nothing at all.

There were already too many rising talents in other sects and the Five Great Families who wanted to cross swords with him. When one was assessed as the greatest prodigy among the third-generation disciples, such annoyances became commonplace.

Ordinarily, Myeong-il would not have cared much. But what bothered him was what that lay disciple had been doing.

That lay disciple only trained in martial arts when Cheong-hwa was watching over him, and spent the rest of his time idly playing a grass flute. None of the people who wanted to challenge him had ever been that unserious.

He had apparently defeated a hall master of the Ascending Thunder Gate, but the Ascending Thunder Gate was just a small-to-medium sect that did not even count for much in the Central Plains. And even then, the fellow was still only a lay disciple. Myeong-il did not think he could beat him.

And yet the fact that he lounged around blowing on a grass flute was precisely what irritated Myeong-il.

The others encouraged Myeong-il by saying the fellow only pretended to be relaxed because he lacked confidence in victory. But Myeong-il had heard something from his own master, Sect Leader Cheong-ui, that no one else had said.

– He will not be easy. Prepare yourself well.

If his master had spoken so, then there had to be grounds for it. The reason he was irritated was because he could not find those grounds.

‘Enough.’

Myeong-il decided to cast aside the distracting thoughts. Just as Myeong-han had said, the fellow was probably nothing. His master was simply a serious man in all things and had only told him to stay alert. There was no need to attach such great meaning to it. After all, Myeong-il still had far too long a road ahead of him.

“Huh?”

“Uh, over there…”

At that moment, the gazes of many people who had been practicing turned in one direction. Myeong-il tried not to pay attention, but those looks soon settled on him as well.

When Myeong-il turned around, there stood a mild-looking white-faced scholar who did not seem to have learned even half a move of martial arts.

“You’re Myeong-il, right?”

“…I am.”

Myeong-il did not even know the face of the lay disciple who was supposedly coming to challenge him, yet by instinct he knew this was that very lay disciple.

“I watched you in the evaluation match the other time. You were flying all over the place.”

“Did you come here just to say that?”

Myeong-il cut him off coldly. He was in the middle of training. The very fact that this lay disciple had interrupted that was enough to show he had no seriousness toward martial arts.

“Not that. I was wondering whether you’d like to have a spar with me.”

The lay disciple smiled and spoke in a tone completely devoid of solemnity. As if that were not enough, he scratched the back of his head as though embarrassed by the situation.

That sight made Myeong-il angry. Now that he saw him in person, the fellow was even more pathetic than expected. To tell him to be wary of someone like this, of all people. He almost thought his master had been needlessly cruel.

“Why should I?”

“Hm?”

“I heard that in order to receive whatever this Registered lay disciple thing is, you need to prove yourself. But do I have any reason to help with your proof?”

At Myeong-il’s sharp remark, the lay disciple nodded as though he understood.

“Not really.”

“Then get lost. I need to train.”

Normally he would have humored someone with a spar or two, but looking at the fellow now, he did not even want to bother. Whether this fool proved himself or not had absolutely nothing to do with Myeong-il. Myeong-il turned to face the wooden dummy again. And then he heard words he should never have heard.

“Could it be that you’re scared?”

Myeong-il looked at the lay disciple with utter disbelief. The lay disciple was smiling. Infuriatingly enough, that smile resembled that of his respected martial uncle, Cheong-hwa.

***

‘Just as I thought, it’s a magic phrase.’

Especially with young kids, it worked instantly. I never imagined I would be the one saying something like this, but if he was going to be this uncooperative, I had no other choice.

“What did you just say?”

Myeong-il’s voice turned gloomy. But it still came from a little brat who had not even hit puberty yet, so it only sounded cute.

“I asked whether you’re scared.”

“Scared? Me? Of you?”

Myeong-il still looked as though he could not believe his ears. I nodded even more emphatically.

“Yeah. Otherwise, there’d be no reason to avoid it. Swinging your sword at a wooden dummy and swinging it at me are both still one sword swing, aren’t they? Actually, fighting a real person would be better practice than training against a wooden dummy, wouldn’t it? So if you’re using training as an excuse, well. That’s a reasonable suspicion.”

I copied Cheong-hwa’s smile as closely as I could. As far as I knew, that was the smile best suited for irritating people to death.

As expected, Myeong-il’s eyes burned with fury. Well, anyone would have a fit after seeing Cheong-hwa’s smile.

‘Thank you, Master.’

For the first time, I called Cheong-hwa my master. Of course, only inwardly.

“That bastard’s crazy.”

“Did he really lose his mind?”

The stage had already been set. Quite a few third-generation disciples and drill instructors were already whispering among themselves. The drill instructors also knew my story, so they did not seem inclined to interfere. Judging by the way the children, Myeong-han included, were wandering around, this did not seem to be such a serious training session anyway.

“His provoking tactics are first-rate, at least.”

Fire blazed in Myeong-il’s gaze. My provocation had definitely worked.

Nothing made for better entertainment than watching a fight. The third-generation disciples stepped back to clear the area, and the drill instructors promptly removed the wooden dummies and made space. In an instant, an arena suitable for two people to spar in had been created.

“You should never have said that.”

With those words, the air around Myeong-il changed.

‘He really is different.’

It felt completely different from when I had watched him from the spectators’ area. It was like standing before a ferocious beast with my own body.

I also untied the wooden sword at my waist. One of the drill instructors stepped forward and said he would act as referee.

The result of this fight would probably spread throughout Wudang within one shichen. The smaller the organization, the faster rumors tended to spread.

“If both sides are ready, say so.”

One of the drill instructors spoke.

“I’m ready.”

“Me too.”

Neither Myeong-il nor I had any reason to hesitate. At once, the drill instructor standing between us darted back, and Myeong-il and I kicked off the ground simultaneously.

Myeong-il’s sword slashed down diagonally. It was Wind and Rain in All Directions from the Three Calamities Sword Art.

I knew both the Azure Cloud Steps he was treading and the Three Calamities Sword Art itself, but that did not make them easy to deal with.

I had not fought many martial artists, but even so, this feeling was new. It felt as though I knew everything he was going to do, yet still found it hard to block.

I kept circling sideways and avoided clashing swords head-on. Fortunately, if I concentrated, I could at least keep up with the Azure Cloud Steps.

“You’ve mastered at least one footwork art well.”

Myeong-il muttered quietly. I really must have learned the Azure Cloud Steps well. Not only Myeong-il’s voice but the voices of the watching drill instructors proved as much.

“His Azure Cloud Steps have reached a level.”

“They have. He definitely has the kind of talent Cheong-hwa would take in.”

“I heard it hasn’t even been three full months since he properly started learning martial arts. If that’s true, then this is an incredible accomplishment.”

Everyone here already knew how extraordinary Myeong-il was. Precisely because of that, what drew their attention now was how hard I was holding out. They had expected me to lose within a single exchange, but even if I was being pushed back, I kept avoiding direct defeat and continuing to cross blades with him.

The third-generation disciples also whispered as though they had never imagined I would fight this well.

“Hup!”

Myeong-il seemed to grow slightly impatient when things did not end as easily as he had expected. The footprints under his steps sank deeper into the ground. That meant he had put more inner qi into them.

But right now I had no inner qi worth speaking of. I was only avoiding him through movement. That made it all the more important not to meet him head-on. Whenever our swords so much as brushed, my insides churned. Myeong-il’s inner qi was clearly affecting my internal organs. Since he was not yet old enough to have built a full foundation in inner qi, it only made me nauseous. If he had truly been a master of inner qi, my insides would have been turned to mush in a single blow.

Little by little, the time for me to stake everything on one decisive move was approaching. I twisted my waist to let Myeong-il’s sword slide past my shoulder, then rolled to dodge the elbow that came flying toward my chin.

“That’s the Roll of the Lazy Donkey.”

“As expected of a lay disciple, he has no proper roots.”

The orthodox sect types, who considered rolling on the ground more humiliating than death, clicked their tongues, but to me, pride of that sort was worthless unless it proved useful.

As I rolled, I called up the Martial Talent Shop. A translucent window floated before my eyes.

‘Purchase.’

Buying was instantaneous. That meant by the time I wondered whether I had actually purchased it, it had already been applied to my body. What I bought was Swift Movement. The one that cost one hundred nyang of silver. Thinking about it again, the price matched exactly, so perhaps it had been fate.

I sprang back to my feet and rushed at Myeong-il. Surprise flashed across his eyes. I was just as startled.

‘Why am I this fast?’

For a moment my feet almost tangled and sent me sprawling. I was so fast my body had not adjusted yet.

“Huh?”

The onlookers also seemed startled by the sudden change in my movement. This was my chance. The one and only chance I could create. To buy talent in the middle of a fight and change my movement itself.

I bent the knee of my lead leg as far as possible, then shot forward. Swift Movement made that entire motion look like a single seamless action.

Myeong-il seemed to be retreating as much as he could while trying to adjust to my speed with his eyes. If I gave him even a quarter of a beat of time here, he would adapt to my speed. But I had no intention of missing my chance. I slipped in beneath the left side of Myeong-il’s waist, the difficult side for a right-handed swordsman to swing toward.

I gripped the hilt tightly. My flesh and the wooden sword seemed to fuse together until there was no gap between them at all. I drove that clenched hilt straight into Myeong-il’s ribs.

With his waist left open, Myeong-il took my blow cleanly and was flung away on the spot. My strength was finally at the point where it could affect martial artists too.

When Myeong-il tumbled along the ground in a spray of dust and failed to rise, the drill instructor who had been standing far back rushed into the arena.

“The spar ends here.”

The moment he said that, I dropped flat onto the ground and gasped for breath. The shocked cries of the third-generation disciples rang around my ears.